


you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now)

by hopeless_hope



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Ciri Needs a Hug, Father-Daughter Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, geralt ur doing great sweetie, soft dad geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/pseuds/hopeless_hope
Summary: “Hey,” he says, making sure he has her full attention. Ciri looks at him, and the amount of hope in her eyes scares him, though he’d never admit it. He pitches his voice low and soothing yet firm. “No one is going to hurt you while I’m here. And I won’t be leaving you.”She gives him a twisted smile. “They all say that,” she says bitterly, and Geralt spares himself a second to remind himself of what Ciri has lost. Her parents. Her grandparents. Her home.Geralt is all she has left.-In which Ciri has a nightmare and Geralt does his best to comfort her.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion (implied)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 274





	you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now)

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I haven't even seen episode 8 yet even though I'm dying to. But I've been watching the series with my roommate and I can't finish it without her. Anyway, I'm a sucker for father-daughter and father-son relationships, and I assume Geralt and Ciri meet next episode, so take my trash.

He awakens to the sound of screaming.

Decades of habit have Geralt reaching for his sword, which always stays perched beside his bed. The candle next to him still burns dimly, casting a low glow into the room, and he squints in confusion when he finds neither monster nor man invading his space.

Movement next to him quickly draws his attention, and he frowns when he sees Ciri thrashing in the next bed over. He sets his sword aside, relieved that there’s no imminent danger, and briskly crosses to room to stand next to Ciri’s bed.

Geralt feels an uncharacteristic pang in his chest at the sight of her normally calm face twisted at horrors only she can see. He wishes this was a part of their reality he could spare her from. He sighs heavily.

“Ciri,” he calls, frowning when she flings an arm out, a whimper working its way up her throat. He knows he needs to wake her up quickly—it is when she is vulnerable that her powers are most volatile. “Ciri!” he says again, this time with more urgency.

She kicks violently, feet tangled in the blanket, and seems to panic even more. Geralt wastes no time before reaching a hand out and firmly shaking her shoulder. “Come on, kid, wake up,” he mutters.

The girl simply pushes against him, yelling again, and Geralt’s eyes widen as the glass of water on the nightstand trembles. He curses. She’s had nightmares before, sure, but never one this bad. Already, he’s thinking of what to say if someone approaches him about the noise.

He shakes his head, turning his full attention back to the traumatized girl in front of him. He can think about that later.

“Cirilla! Wake up!” Geralt repeats, shaking her a little and feeling bad for the bite in his voice. It’s worth it, though, because a second later, the girl’s eyes fly open with a gasp.

She reflexively flings an arm out to hit him, not fully awake yet, and Geralt catches her arms, gently holding her down so she doesn’t hurt herself.

“Easy, easy,” Geralt murmurs instinctively, as though trying to calm a spooked Roach. “You’re safe,” he tells her. “You’re at an inn with me, Geralt of Rivia. It was just a nightmare.”

He watches, face tight with concern, as realization seeps back into her eyes, which are brimming with unshed tears. Geralt cautiously releases his hold on her, and she brings her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively. He waits for her breath to slow before he speaks.

“Are you okay?” he asks eventually, inwardly wincing at the stupid question. Obviously she’s not, but no one ever taught him how to calm a distressed teenage girl.

Ciri bites her lip, looking away from Geralt’s gaze. For a moment, Geralt thinks she’s simply going to ignore the question.

“It wasn’t,” she finally says, and Geralt furrows his brow.

“Wasn’t what?” he asks.

“'Just a nightmare',” she answers quietly, staring blankly at a spot in front of her. “It’s real. All of it. And if—if it didn’t happen to me, it happened to someone else.” She looks up at Geralt, then, a haunted look in her eyes that makes his chest ache. “They’re not just nightmares anymore. Not when I wake up and it’s just the same thing here.”

The words don’t sound like they should be coming from the mouth of someone who’s still just a kid. Geralt can see that she’s shaking, and he’s hit with a wave of protectiveness. Accompanying it, like a dissonant chord, is a string of doubt. He is not sure he’ll have the right things to say.

After all, this is their reality. A living nightmare that Geralt desperately wishes he could shield her from.

“Hey,” he says, making sure he has her full attention. She looks at him, and the amount of hope in her eyes scares him, though he’d never admit it. He pitches his voice low and soothing yet firm. “No one is going to hurt you while I’m here. And I won’t be leaving you.”

She gives him a twisted smile. “They all say that,” she says bitterly, and Geralt spares himself a second to remind himself of what Ciri has lost. Her parents. Her grandparents. Her home.

Geralt is all she has left.

“Ciri,” Geralt says firmly. “Look at me. I will not leave you,” he says slowly, letting the words sink in. The words burst from his chest, and he realizes he truly means it; now that she’s here, he can’t imagine ever leaving her again, can’t imagine losing her. He knows with a deep conviction that he’d sooner die than let someone take his child.

Her lower lip trembles then, and Geralt sees her composure start to crumble in front of him. A tear finally spills over, followed by another, and Geralt gently reaches out and places a hand on her cheek, gently swiping the tears away.

Ciri leans into the touch, a hand coming up to hold his hand there, and Geralt can feel how tense her jaw is from biting back her cries, clearly not wanting to appear any weaker in front of the Witcher.

He knows she needs to let this out now, rather than let the chaos of her emotions grow inside of her. “It’s okay,” he tells her.

She tries to keep it together a second longer, but then her body completely crumples, and she falls forward, curling in on herself with a heaving sob. Geralt quickly adjusts himself to catch her, wrapping his arms around her.

Ciri clutches at his shirt desperately as she cries, and Geralt simply holds her, giving her a safe place to let herself grieve all that she’s lost. He wonders if she’s ever let herself do that, if she’s ever had a moment where she felt safe enough to let herself break.

She cries and cries and cries, the force of them shaking her body. And despite his general rule of not pointlessly talking, Geralt finds himself murmuring a litany of nonsensical reassurances into her ear. “It’s okay,” he whispers to her, rocking her gently. “I’ve got you.”

Geralt’s not sure how much time has passed before her cries slow and she collapses against him, utterly exhausted. He carefully maneuvers them so his back is against the headboard and her head in his lap. His hand hovers over her head awkwardly before he brings it down, running a hand through her hair soothingly.

He absentmindedly hums a tune low in his throat, hoping to coax her the rest of the way into sleep. It’s not until later that he realizes the tune he hummed to her is the same one Jaskier always sang when he knew Geralt couldn’t sleep.

He tries not to think too hard about that.

Instead, he focuses on Ciri’s face, which is starting to slacken as she falls asleep, and Geralt is once again struck by just how young she is. It’s sometimes easy to forget. She carries herself tall, voice steady and calm during the day, even after hours and hours of walking and riding.

Even after everything she’s lost.

She shifts in his lap, and he freezes as her eyes open, just barely.

“Thank you,” she says, so quietly he almost doesn’t catch it. Geralt blinks, something inside of him softening.

“Go to sleep,” he tells her fondly, and she offers him the tiniest of smiles before closing her eyes again.

She knows that’s his way of saying, “You’re welcome.”

Geralt breathes a sigh of relief when she finally drifts off again. He’d never admit it, but he was so afraid he’d fuck the moment up, somehow make it all worse for the girl.

But she’s okay for now. They’re both okay.

And despite the heaviness of the night, his chest feels just a bit lighter. He’s good for Ciri, he’s realized. He makes her feel safe.

And Ciri? Well, she’s good for him, too.

Geralt closes his eyes, allowing himself to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are incredibly appreciated, especially since this is such a new fandom to me and I'm kinda nervous, haha. I'm so disappointed that not many fics have been written for these two, and I'm hoping next season will change that. I'm still toying around with their characterization, so please don't judge too harshly.
> 
> Please come talk to me on tumblr @thewitcherstan! I also write and post for marvel @tonystarkstan if you're interested in that. Thank you for reading!


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